


Nothing better to do

by Nary



Category: Gosford Park
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Misogyny, Secret Relationship, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes George didn't want a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing better to do

"Meet me in the laundry room tonight, will you?" George had meant to make it sound less optional than that, but there it stood. He kept his eyes on the silver he was supposed to be counting and waited for her answer.

Bertha snorted. "Why, you need some linens scrubbed?"

"You'll come, or Mrs. Croft'll hear what you've been up to," he whispered.

"Oh, Croftie was no better than she ought to be herself, she wouldn't turn me out for having a spot of fun," she said breezily. "We've an understanding, her and me."

It might even be true, he reflected. Mrs. Wilson wouldn't stand for such goings on, but Mrs. Croft was more lax in her discipline of the kitchen maids working beneath her. "Come on," he said, shifting to a more wheedling tack. "No handsome guests here for weeks – no guests at all, come to that – and I'd wager you're aching for it by now. So why shouldn't we help each other out?"

She shrugged, tucked a couple of unruly black curls back under her modest cap, and finally nodded. "Half past eleven, then," she said, sneaking a glance at him. "Be done by midnight, though. I've got to have my beauty rest."

At precisely half past eleven, George slipped down the stairs and along the corridor to the laundry room. She wasn't there yet, and for a moment he thought maybe she'd changed her mind, or worse, been caught on her way. But a minute later he heard the door swing on its hinges, and her soft tread across the stone floor. The room was close to pitch black. "Is that you?" she murmured.

"Who'd you expect?" he said, and drew her into his arms for a kiss. She teased her tongue along his lips until they parted for her. He pushed open the light robe she wore over her nightgown, cupping one heavy breast, feeling her nipple stiffen through the heavy cotton. There was no way in hell he could pretend she was Elsie, not with tits this size, but it didn't matter; she was warm and close, and she wasted no time clambering up onto the wooden table by the wash basin, hiking up her nightgown, and opening her legs for him.

Elsie was a stuck-up bitch anyway, George thought as he dipped his fingers into the slickness between Bertha's thighs and heard her stifle a gasp. Elsie'd had the nerve to slap his hand away when he'd just wanted a little feel, even though everyone (everyone below stairs, at least) knew she was tupping Sir William. Putting on airs like she wasn't just another tart. Like she was better than the rest of them.

Bertha didn't slap him away, and she didn't put on airs. He knew her sort – the girl who knew she wasn't pretty, but tried to make up for it by spreading her legs, easy as can be. It worked for her, at least for now. Sometimes a man didn't want a challenge, he just wanted a ready smile and a wet cunt, and Bertha had both of those.

She was squirming, reaching down to flick open the top button of his trousers and work her hand inside, finding him stiff. With her lips against his ear she whispered "Come on, hurry up and fuck me, George." He was strangely gratified that she'd said his name – lord knew she'd had enough other men that it would have been easy for her to mix them up, or just leave names out entirely to be on the safe side, but she hadn't. He dropped his drawers and eased his way into her, muffling a groan against her shoulder. She was tighter than he'd expected, but she gave way readily enough, didn't wince or pretend like it felt anything but good. No false coyness here – in fact, she wrapped her sturdy legs around him and urged him on. "Faster," she breathed, and he obliged her to the best of his ability.

The hardest part was keeping quiet, but it would be the sack for both of them if they were caught, so he sucked any urgent grunts back into his throat, stopped her mouth with his own when she came so that all that escaped from her plump lips were tiny, shuddering breaths, and finally, when he couldn't hold back any longer, bit down on one of her soft breasts instead of crying out.

"So, will we do this again?" he asked her after, as they both straightened their clothes and hair as best as they could in the dark.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "It's a fair trade. For when I've nothing better to do."


End file.
